Who are you? Who are you? Do you know that I am here? Can you hear me calling to you, though I do not know your name?

Sometimes it seems as though neither my heart nor my mind are in this world. My body engages in the daily routine while my soul make-believes. Talking to myself in the mirror, running around my room, making faces ... and then trying to act as though I've done nothing at all when someone catches a glimpse of my frighteningly personal and therefore unexplainable grin or grimace.

Pretending that I'm talking to you.

Pretending that I'm singing. To you? Of you? For you? For me. Imagining that some day, I will be able to hear my own voice again ... and that you will know that sound is me, the me beyond the skin. Imagining that some day, I will dance without hesitation, and that perhaps, at some moment, you will see me when all control has disappeared.

Pretending that I know how you feel.

Pretending that I am beautiful energy, not just a "cute girl." That I'm more than something small and fragile that needs to be shielded. That for all my apparent fragility, I am strong. I appreciate your desire to protect me from things, but I want to be deserving of your respect more than anything else. I want to be your equal, my own power, my own being. I want to be a spirit that moves you.